


Plenty of Nugs

by DawnJay



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cute, Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Kids, stuffed nug army
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 15:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17665454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnJay/pseuds/DawnJay
Summary: The Bulls Chargers are unofficial babysitters now, the children at Skyhold have insisted upon that. The Iron Bull is discovering how nice it can be having kids trust you.





	Plenty of Nugs

The children of Skyhold had all collectively decided that The Bull's Chargers were their safe haven in the uncertain storm of the world around them. The Iron Bull wasn't sure what first gave them the impression that the mercenary band that stank of ale and sweat were the safe ones to hang around, but he didn't mind. Their parents and the chantry sisters probably stressed out about it, but they had nothing to worry about

Well...

Okay, so maybe the kids picked up some bad words.

They may have also been allowed to play with deadly weapons.

Under close supervision, though!

That's good parenting, as far as a Qunari is concerned. Kids gotta learn which end of the sword is the sharp one eventually, after all.

At any rate, there was always at least one or two kids under foot for them whenever they were at Skyhold, from sunup to sundown. Bull himself seemed to intimidate them so they'd get Krem or Stitches to ask him for a story on their behalf, and on the whole they had all decided they liked having the little ones scampering after them and pestering them with questions.

When Krem started sewing nug plushies for the little rascals they all pitched in eagerly to help the cause. Bull wasn't very neat with a needle and thread, so he helped by cutting out the little shapes from cloth whenever they had some to spare lying around. It was worth the effort they all put in, seeing the little ones grin as they received their own personal little stuffy, each unique and personal to the child it was made for. The little ones seemed to think that Dalish had mystic wisdom, and they'd sit solemnly with her for time on end discussing what name would best suit their little nug companions. Dalish humored them every time, taking their concerns seriously and talking them through it until they picked the right one.

Those who hadn't yet received their stuffed nugs had a tradition among them as well. Since there was no stuffy yet to listen to their worries and woes they would come to sit alone by Grim, who would sit just as quietly and listen just as free of judgement for them as any button eyed nug would.

After they graduated to nug-toting, they would let Grim 'borrow' their nugs to return the favor (and also probably to be certain their nug were safe and cared for while they ran and played). It became commonplace to see Grim surrounded by and sometimes covered in stuffed toys.

The Iron Bull thought he'd seen just about everything now. Not that it surprised him when he knew how good hearted all of his guys were under it all. So when the situation did finally startle him, he was really thrown for a loop.

He left his table at the Herald's Rest late one night and found Krem hard at work by candlelight on one of his stuffed toys. Bull squinted at the half-formed lump of grey and brown cloth as he pulled off his boots to go to bed, considering it carefully for a long moment before remarking. “That's one ugly ass nug, Krem, you're losing your knack for this.”

Krem laughed, shaking his head. “Am not. It's not a nug, Chief.”

“The hell is it then?”

“A special request from a very special young man.” Krem answered, finishing a line of stitching before carefully turning the doll inside out so it could be stuffed and finished. When he held it up now, the shape was unmistakable.

“That's... _me?_ ” Bull stared, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Sure is, Chief. Just gotta give him a little eyepatch then fill out his pillowy man bosom, and he'll be indistinguishable from the real article.”

The Iron Bull snorted at the jest, but his eyes were still locked on that stuffed little version of himself in awe. “One of the kids... _asked_ for that?”

With a nod Krem turned to set the toy back down so he could start cramming it full of flocking from the black horns all the way down to the brown boots. “Yeah, Borden did.”

This surprised Bull even more.

Borden was a wiry and unusually tall boy of seven who had been mistaken for a teenager several times since he had arrived with his mother a few weeks earlier. He was chatty, and very eloquent about it...unless Bull was nearby. The instant he walked in, Borden clammed up like he was straight mute. Of all the people to want a stuffed toy version of him, the kid who was clearly scared to pieces of him wasn't the one he would have guessed.

He said as much.

“But he's scared of me.”

This time Krem outright laughed. “Ben Hassrath don't read kids often, do they?”

“Well...no, but they are just little people at the end of the day. Not much different, is there?”

“Most of the time, sure. But they are also little people who are super honest and don't know how to lie to save their hides. If you'd ask him, he'd tell you the truth.”

“...which is?”

“You make him feel safe. He chatters so much because he wants people to think he's all grown up, smart and brave, lots of opinions. With you around he doesn't have to pretend because you'll hurt anyone who tries to hurt him. So a nug wouldn't cut it. He needed someone to make it easier to relax and be quiet, not talk even more.”

A touch of pride swelled in The Iron Bulls chest, a slow smile curving his mouth. “So I get a plushie made of me?”

“Yeah,” Krem smirked up at him, “Don't let it go to your head.”

“Oh trust me.” Bull quipped as he lay back in his cot. “I definitely will.”

And he did.

Because there were kids who trusted him and needed him.

Every time he saw that little stuffed toy hanging over a young boys arm, one brown button and a stitched on smile looking back at him, he remembered that.

 


End file.
